Chapter 11
11
WESTON
Six Days Later
I nearly survived the week without texting Carlee once.
Happy fucking Friday.
Five nights have passed, and we’ve not had one conversation. She also hasn’t posted on LuxLeaks. The sabbatical continues. Meanwhile, more blind items about me have been shared.
A voice memo that I’d sent Lena years ago was passed around publicly. She’s trying to spin the secret girlfriend rumor like we’re back together, and the trashy gossip magazines have presented old images of us like it’s new information. Shady as fuck.
I’m aware that Carlee is keeping up with the Calloways. She always is.
I pull on my warmest winter gear and venture into Central Park. The chill air nips at my cheeks, but snow isn’t falling, so I take advantage. The scent of damp earth reminds me why I chose the penthouse on Billionaires’ Row—for location alone. In the summer, the lush greens and towering trees make me feel less like I’m swimming in a sea of concrete .
The city has my heart, but the great outdoors owns my soul. It’s why I love to travel.
My thoughts spiral, without pause, replaying every moment from last weekend like a movie stuck on repeat. The laughter, the side-glances, and the undeniable chemistry still linger in my mind, reminding me of what could be—or maybe what should be.
What would’ve happened had I not stopped us from going any further? The possibility of falling in love with Carlee is intoxicating, a real fantasy.
With every stride forward, I try to grasp the tangled web of emotions brewing inside me. My anxiety mingles with exhilaration, and it’s a constant push-and-pull.
I don’t know if I can love someone again, but I’d try for her.
A bicyclist zooms past me, pulling me from thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking anyway. I breathe in deeply, focusing on the brief warmth from the winter sun peeking from behind the clouds.
Carlee’s buried deep under my fucking skin. Jogging usually clears my mind, but clarity eludes me as I push westward through the park.
We shouldn’t have crossed that line.
I shouldn’t have kissed her.
I need a vacation, an escape to the middle of nowhere. Adventure calls.
I turn on some music, trying to drown out the intrusive camera clicks of the paparazzi, capturing every move I make as I continue down the path. I keep my eyes down, not meeting anyone who passes me.
All week, I’ve been followed. Easton is growing exhausted by it because he can’t go anywhere without being bombarded. He hates the attention.
It’s not the spotlight or large groups of people that haunt me. It’s silence, intermingling with the fear of being alone.
I quicken my pace, letting my legs carry me forward. Running is my refuge. Each step an escape, and it forces the world to fade away. Or at least, it usually does. Kissing Carlee has become my Roman Empire, and thoughts of her invade my mind like a thief in the night.
We pushed our boundaries too far, and our relationship will be defined by what we do now.
Embers sizzle beneath the surface between us, and I haven’t felt the same since that night.
The impulse to text her nearly takes hold, but I keep my restraint intact. I know her strategy too well. I’ve used it before, but I can’t believe it’s working on me. Maybe I’m obsessed with the chase too.
The forbiddance of we shouldn’t tugs at me. Maybe we fucking should?
My phone buzzes when I’m fifteen minutes from home, and I blindly answer.
“Calloway,” I say, breathless, pushing myself harder.
“Hi, Calloway . It’s your favorite little sister. Ugh, what are you doing?” Billie’s cheerful voice cuts through my exhaustion.
My week has been hell.
“Running,” I mumble.
“Thank God.” She huffs. “Didn’t want to catch you with your secret girlfriend.”
I ignore her.
“What do you want?” I snap, frustration edging into my tone.
“I need a brunch buddy so I don’t look like a total loser. Harper canceled at the last minute because of an unscheduled business meeting. I’m at the deli around the corner.”
I glance at my watch. “Is fifteen minutes okay?”
“Yep. See you soon.”
The call ends.
I make it there in ten.
The warm air is a welcome relief when I enter the building. I catch sight of Billie, and she waves. Her dark hair is an immaculate bob, not a single hair out of place. Her blue eyes are obscured by oversized sunglasses that shield half of her face. The white baseball cap with our family’s diamond corporation logo embroidered across the top makes her unmissable. I smile, and my little sister beams back. She’s hiding her identity, but it’s unmistakably her.
“Oh, I almost didn’t recognize you,” I sarcastically tell her.
“Shut up,” she says, greeting me with a tight hug. “You always eat the same thing, right?”
I nod.
“Good. Save our spot. I almost had to fight someone for that booth.” She strides confidently to the front, where she grabs a bottle of water and tosses it my way before ordering.
I’m aware of the women staring at me across the room. I glance up from my phone and grin at one of them. She nearly faints.
I down half the bottle in a few gulps. Without wasting another second, I navigate to the gossip site where the blind items are posted. My name isn’t on the update yet, but I know it’s only a matter of time, considering people speculated it was me in the comments.
Billie returns with a receipt between her fingers. Her eyes flick over my shoulder. “What are you looking at?”
“Just staying informed.”
I shoot her a glance as she slides across from me. Her expression is a blend of skepticism and intrigue.
She smirks. “So, who is she? When do I get to meet her?”
“Who?”
“The woman you’ve not introduced to your friends or family,” she says. “The one you’re going to marry?”
My brows furrow. “Please tell me that’s not what’s being said now. It’s all fabricated,” I explain, keeping my voice low as I lean in. “Someone’s stirring up trouble, trying to get a rise out of Lena. And when I find out who it is, I’m going to fuck them up.”
I flash a sweet smile, but she knows I’m not kidding. This is digital warfare.
Her brows knit together in concern. “I hope you never find them then. That sounds like a one-way ticket to a prison cell. I don’t think orange is your color,” she says, shaking her head.
Since she’s a fashionista, her word carries weight, and I know better than to argue.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I chuckle.
“You seem different today,” she says, watching me. “What’s up?”
“I’ve had a hard week. Just tired.”
“Or you’re in the lovesick phase of your cycle. Easton gets in a grumpy mood at this stage too.”
I smirk, wondering if she’s right. Easton does have a cycle. Is it possible that ours is the same? We’re more alike than not.
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m so intrigued. Will you at least allow me to guess who it is?” she prods, leaning forward, her eyes alight with excitement. “Then you can confirm if it’s true or not.”
“Order for Billie!” a voice calls out from the counter.
“I’ll get it!” I singsong, eager to escape the intensity of our conversation.
As I grab our food, I take the time to get my mind right. Billie is my sister and one of my closest allies, and she can read me like a book just as easily as Easton can, which is both comforting and unnerving. When one of us is in love, we act a certain way, and I’m concerned she’s picked up on it.
I return to the booth, our baskets in hand, and glance at her expectantly.
“Tell me,” she whispers.
“Carlee,” I mutter, barely able to keep my voice steady.
“I knew it.” She claps her hands together and draws unneeded attention to us.
I glance around. The women have pulled out their cell phones, and they’re recording us. I’m aware this will end up on the internet.
“Stop looking at me like that. People are videoing.”
“I don’t care,” she says, cutting into her avocado toast with a sharp knife. “I’m going to savor this moment of you falling madly in love.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter. I take a satisfying bite of my smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel, the flavors mingling in my mouth. “We’re just friends,” I assure her, the words slipping from my lips with a touch more confidence than I feel.
I shoot another woman a wink, and her cheeks immediately blush.
My sister turns and glances at her, then back to me. “Do you have to flirt everywhere we go?”
“It’s called being friendly.”
“Mmhmm. And that’s exactly what got you into this secret relationship, right? Your charm and friendliness.” She rolls her eyes.
“Don’t act like you’re not as bad as me, little sis. I’ve heard about your rendezvous.”
Her cheeks heat, but her lips stay in a firm line.
I lean closer, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you think Easton could’ve posted the first blind item?”
She narrows her eyes, then laughs. “Easton? Why would he do that?” she asks.
I sigh. “It feels personal.”
“Maybe Carlee posted it?”
My brows pinch together. “I didn’t consider that.”
Billie doesn’t know Carlee is behind LuxLeaks. It’s best no one else ever finds out.
“How well do you know her? Is she a safe person?” Billie asks.
I glance around, wary of prying ears lurking nearby. “She’s Lexi’s best friend. She can be trusted.”
“You’re positive she’s not clout chasing?” my sister asks.
“I know her heart. She’s not like that,” I say.
I’ve learned everything I could about Carlee. Connections—it’s so fucking nice having them .
My sister’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you together in passing at my Halloween party.”
“She doesn’t want the attention.”
“But you do.” She’s curious. “You’re setting up the board. Stacking the odds in your favor.”
The corners of my mouth lift. Maybe I am.
“Everyone will talk about the two of you. Is that what you want?” Her brow arches. Skepticism is written all over her face.
“I want to live my life,” I say, somewhat defensive.
“Have you kissed?” she asks.
“I’m not having this conversation.” I’m growing agitated because she’s too nosy.
“You have,” she whispers, giddy. “Please tell me you felt a spark. Did you?”
I glare at her.
“Why won’t she date you?” she throws out bluntly, raising a brow.
A hearty laugh escapes me. “Come on. Give me more credit than that. I’m not Easton.”
“It’s plausible!” she counters, challenging me to refute it.
I shake my head, amusement dancing in my eyes. “No, it’s not. I can have anyone I want. We both know that,” I say, taking a bite of my food, happy for the sustenance.
“There’s a reason why you can’t have her—I can tell. Plus, Easton says you’ve been an asshole all week,” she insists, her eyes glimmering with knowing. “You had dinner with her on Saturday after Naomi, right?”
I lower my voice. “Have you ever thought that maybe I’m just not ready for a relationship? Everyone seems to forget that I was married for three years, lied to for most of it, manipulated to the point of isolation away from my family, and emotionally abused. Not to mention everything else that happened toward the end. Maybe I just want to be friends, and that’s it. Is it that difficult for you to understand? Please just let me live my life. No one else is. ”
She pushed too hard.
Her smile fades, and she removes her gigantic sunglasses. “I’m so sorry, Weston. I wasn’t trying to?—”
I clear my throat, diverting the conversation. “No need to apologize. How are things with you?”
Her smile widens, but I can see the cracks beneath it.
“I’m living the American dream,” she says brightly, but she’s lying.
My sister’s company is struggling, but she won’t admit it to me. Her Calloway stubbornness keeps her from asking for the help she needs, even though she knows I could single-handedly untangle any mess she’s in. And I would for her.
“You’re lying.” I study her, and concern rises.
“I’ve got it under control. If I need your help, I’ll ask for it,” she replies, brushing off my unease with a wave of her hand.
“Don’t act proud,” I warn.
“I’m not, I promise,” she urges.
“Okay, well, keep that same energy when the topic shifts to my dating life or friendships,” I say, my tone light, yet a thread of seriousness weaves through my words.
She takes a sip of water, eyeing me thoughtfully.
Billie looks so much like our mom right now that I smile. Our mother was a famous supermodel in the ’90s and married a billionaire whose wealth could buy empires. Then, twenty years later, she was traded in for a younger model … literally .
My father is another reason I worry about my future relationships. Maybe I’m just following in his footsteps.
My parents’ toxic relationship and my father’s useless cheating were in the headlines my entire life. His divorce was covered like it was a reality television show. Now, the same toxic spotlight is on me and mine.
“Is there something you want to share?” I ask.
“No,” she replies, a mystery swirling in her tone. “What about you? ”
“Nope,” I respond.
We share a knowing smile, a fleeting moment of connection, even in our tangled truths.
“I saw what Lena was doing,” she says, her voice laced with disdain.
“It’s old pictures and voice memos. Divorcing her has been a never-ending nightmare,” I reply, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’m meeting with my lawyer this week, and I’ll be making my final offer.”
“This is why we begged you to sign a prenup.”
I shake my head, frustration knotting my stomach. “I was an idiot in love who never thought I’d find myself in a divorce, you know? When I married her, I thought it would be forever.”
Her eyes are full of empathy, but then she folds her arms, bracing herself for my next words. “No one lik?—”
“I don’t want to hear how no one liked her, all right? I’m fully aware.”
“Sorry, big bro. I hate this for you.”
“Me too,” I mutter, glancing at the floor. “She wants the house in Malibu, the one in the Hamptons, the penthouse in Cozy Creek, and a private jet. Oh, and half of my inheritance because I wouldn’t have gotten it without marrying her.”
Her expression shifts, disbelief transforming into outrage. “She’s always been so greedy.”
“A tiger never changes its stripes,” I reply, bitterness creeping into my voice. “Lena can go fuck herself. If she were on fire, I wouldn’t bother pissing on her.” I give a sarcastic smile, but it’s hollow. “I’m formally requesting that she drop the Calloway name immediately. I’m tired of her using it as a VIP pass and disrespecting our family.”
“Good for you. Enough about that demon. I want to know more about your friendship with Carlee. How long have you been hanging out? Is this recent?”
Almost a year .
“Stop prying unless you want me to dig deep into your company’s financials like I’m doing an audit.” I instinctively lower my voice.
She rolls her eyes. “Dig all you want. You won’t find anything but healthy accounting and billion-dollar projections.” The confidence in her voice draws me in, but her eyes give her away. They always do.
I’ve shared enough laughs and secrets with her best friend and business partner, Harper, to know that’s not reality. I’m trying very hard not to get involved, but I won’t allow my little sister to fail either. It’s not an option.
I finish my bagel, my fingertips smudged with cream cheese. I wipe my lips and my hands on a napkin, then lean back in the booth.
“What are your plans for today?” she asks.
“I don’t have any. I took a mental health day,” I reply with a shrug.
“Want to join me for pickleball?” she offers, excitement lighting up her features.
I’m happy to have the invitation and distraction.
A smile creeps across my face. “Am I taking Harper’s place in your planned excursions?”
She laughs, a sound full of joy. “We planned to play pickleball for two hours, and then I scheduled hot stone massages at one. Pretty please?”
I shake my head, pretending to consider it, but she knows it’s an instant yes. I try to say yes to everything my siblings invite me to after ignoring them while I was married. I’m making up for lost time.
“You’d better be glad I like you.”
“What are you talking about? You love me!” she quips back, her grin infectious.
“Because I’m your favorite brother?”
She smiles. “Don’t tell Easton. ”
We step outside and begin our stroll down the sidewalk.
The camera clicks fill the air, and Billie smirks, shaking her head. “Looks like we’re dealing with this today?”
I chuckle, covering my mouth so no one reads my lips. “You knew that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have worn your Billie Calloway costume .”
Billie smirks knowingly when we enter the private fitness club. “You’re never just friends with women. Why her?”
“She’s different,” I explain. A knot of confusion tightens in my heart.
“Oh, let me guess. She’s not like the other girls,” Billie says as we scan in.
“She’s not. She’s intelligent, and she can hold meaningful conversations without judgment. Her sense of humor matches mine, and she doesn’t take my shit— ever . She keeps me humble.”
Billie’s grin is infectious as we grab our rackets and a ball. The two of us step onto the private court and stretch.
“You’re in love with her,” she says seriously.
“Billie—”
“And it scares you,” she adds, and my heart races at the thought. “That’s what this is really about.”
I let out a heavy breath.
“I’m going to invite her and Lexi to hang out with me soon,” she singsongs, bouncing the ball a few times.
“Why?”
“I need to get to know the woman you plan to marry. Make sure she’s good enough to be my sister-in-law.”
I groan, “You’re really annoying.”
“I always will be. But then again, what are little sisters for?”
“Being a gigantic pain in my ass.”
“You’re right,” she says right before she serves the ball.
Exhaustion hangs heavy on my shoulders after a long, unplanned day with Billie. It’s nearly dinnertime, and I want a cozy evening with a bottle of bourbon, shitty TV, and a blazing fire.
As I walk into the foyer of The Park, I spot Lexi. She looks stunning in a flowy dress that dances around her knees, her makeup accentuating the sparkle in her eyes.
“Are you busy tonight?” she asks, looking me up and down.
I’m still in my running gear, gloves and all.
“I’m free. Need something?”
“You should go to Obsidian around eight.”
“Why?” I ask, half joking.
Obsidian is one of the bars I own in Midtown, but I don’t think Lexi knows that. My ownership is cloaked behind layers of limited liability corporations. It’s a protection put in place to those who might snoop. Those who need to know it’s mine do.
“I can’t say. Just trust me,” she offers, glancing down at her phone. “Anyway, I have to meet Easton. You know how he gets about being on time.” With a wave, she rushes away.
I step into the elevator, my thoughts racing, and I text Easton to see what he’s heard.
Weston
Any idea why Lexi suggested I be at Obsidian tonight?
I own several upscale clubs around town—Diamond, Obsidian, and Quartz. Each venue boasts a distinct atmosphere with a dress code tailored to meet the vibes.
I entered the nightlife scene while reveling in my bachelor days, yearning for a taste of excitement. Obsidian, in particular, is a casual hookup haven for twenty- and thirty-somethings. Most inside is intentionally black with golden accents—right down to the toilet paper and shot glasses. It’s a place to find yourself, but blend in. The dress code? Black.
In contrast, my pub, Hidden Gem, sits snugly by New York University, featuring a different microbrew weekly and an acoustic night every Wednesday. It effortlessly draws in the college crowd.
At last, my phone buzzes, and I see my brother’s name. Took him forever.
Easton
Carlee.
Weston
What would you do?
He has always been the logical one, and I have a feeling he knows more than I do because of Lexi. I’ve always been known to take more risks, even if I know the odds.
Easton
I won’t get involved until you admit there is something going on.
Weston
We’re just friends. That’s it. Nothing more. There will be TONS of signs if it’s anything other than that. Okay?
Easton
This text conversation is your sign. Idiot.
I actually laugh.
Weston
Rude fuck.
Easton
If I had feelings for her and learned she was meeting her ex, who was the love of her life, at one of MY goddamn clubs, I’d make my presence very fucking known without apology.
As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right.
Weston
Want to switch places?
Easton
If I wasn’t on my way to dinner with my beautiful wife, I’d be in. The things I’d ask …
Weston
You couldn’t handle her responses to the questions you’d ask, little bro. Trust me.
I’m fifty-five seconds older than him, and I don’t ever let him live it down.
Easton
Listen, Carlee is a genuinely good person, and she deserves happiness as much as you do, so don’t fucking destroy her, Weston. Got it? You won’t survive each other.
Weston
I’m aware.
Easton
Also was SHOCKED to learn you went on a date together last weekend.
I read his text, wondering how he knew. Maybe Carlee told him. If so, that’s proof that she’s been thinking about me, as I suspected.
Weston
It wasn’t a date.
Easton
Bullshit. It was Ambrosia, Weston. You don’t have dinner with “friends” there. It was a bold statement. Even Carlee knows that. Having a drink with Naomi first was clever though. Always hiding in plain sight.
Weston
I thought so too. What else did she say?
I’m enjoying this candid conversation too much.
Easton
You swam. Drank too much bourbon. And then she tried to take advantage of you, but you were a perfect gentleman and respected her. She’s extremely embarrassed. Said she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to look you in the eye. She could barely talk to me. It was awkward as fuck!
Weston
Hilarious.
I send the message, swallowing hard.
Easton
Don’t play games.
Weston
I’m not.
Easton
Watching this unfold is frustrating.
Weston
Oh, like you and Lexi were any better. Give me a break. I think you’re even more annoying now, Daddy.
I tease him every chance I get, but it’s just fun and games. I love that Easton and Lexi are going to be parents. My brother will be an incredible, attentive dad, and I can’t wait to be an uncle. It’s still a secret, but they’re almost ready to announce the pregnancy. Lexi won’t be able to hide it much longer.
Weston
I’m very happy for you. Jealous but happy.
Easton
Thanks. Thrilled to almost have my brother back.
Weston
Trying.
Easton
Don’t forget who you are and what you survived. I support whatever decision you make, okay?
Weston
Thanks for the pep talk. We really are JUST friends though.
Easton
Yeah, and I only wanted Lexi as my “fake” wife.
I walk into my penthouse and hop into the shower.
As the warm water washes over me, I try to decide what to do.
To go to Obsidian or not to go? That is the question.